Don't Say It
by pleasesayitsnotso
Summary: Laid in bed Steve and Natasha revel in the comfort of the other, however Steve decides that this is the moment to declare his feelings to Natasha. She's not prepared for that.
1. Don't Say It

_"__I think sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we're imagining it. Because it is the most painful kind of hope there is."  
__― __Rae Carson_

* * *

Steve basked in the gentle warmth that radiated from the petite, yet strong, frame of Natasha who was pressed into his side. His arms enveloped her, keeping her close, one hand rested on her bare back gently tracing circles, whilst his other hand was placed upon the arm of hers that was draped across his torso. Her face was nuzzled into his chest rising and falling in tandem with his breathes, her scarlet tresses styled into violent curls, rough and tousled by his hands. Her alabaster skin was soft and almost glowed in the light of the early morning sun, as the rays reached out to her wanting to show him the beauty of the woman before him. Many mornings he had awoken to behold this scene, and he never got tired of it, he never got tired of feeling her close to him, of observing every little feature he found endearing whilst she slept, every time he tried to absorb the image of her just in case it didn't last or he failed to remember. He loved her. As he looked upon her sleeping form, his heart hammered against his chest so hard he feared that it would awaken her, yet no signs of awakening adorned her face. So he relished this moment of domestic bliss, closing his eyes, and revelled in the revelation of his affection for Natasha.

Minutes passed and after a long while he felt the soft movement and ticklish sensation of Natasha's hair flitting across his chest as she awoke and started to move. Opening his eyes he looked down at his chest to see two verdant eyes, glazed by sleep but sparkling with amour,

"Morning sleepy." With a soft grunt Natasha tightened her hold around Steve's torso and buried her head into his chest, causing her curls to tumble over her face obscuring her from view, however it did not obscure the mumbled,

"Shut up Rogers." Natasha was not a morning person, and it had been resolutely decided between them that she must enjoy his company immensely to endure Steve, the early morning riser. They lay there for a few minutes encompassed in a comforting and satisfied silence, Steve knew that Natasha was still awake by her breathing,

"Nat?..." He uttered gently, moving his hand from the place on her back to brush back the mop of red tresses that obstructed her face from him, allowing her to tilt her face upwards towards him. He noted how an endearing frown adorned her brow line, indicating her annoyance at being disturbed, however she managed to open her eyes, despite them squinting in pain at the bright light that blared through the window,

"Hmm..." She replied gently, hiding her irritation well, she had now managed to open her eyes fully and he felt himself fall into those emerald jewels that glistened and gleamed in the light. She looked expectantly up at him and it wasn't until, she raised an eyebrow that he realised she was waiting for him to continue, but strangely he felt her body tense slightly beneath him in anticipation.

Natasha was good at reading people, it had become and inherent skill within her job, and she felt the panicking realisation brew within her chest that she knew what he was about to say. His expression exuded adoration and _love_, Steve was incredibly bad at hiding emotions he wore his heart on his sleeve irrevocably. She felt the painful tightening within her chest and stomach, in fear of what she was expecting,

"I lo..." As quick as a flash Natasha lifted her upper body from its comfortable position, and pressed a finger to his lips, stopping him mid-sentence. Her eyes met his in a firm, stern gaze of warning, and in her calm steely voice she warned,

"Don't say it Rogers." His eyes that had been framed by a low brow of confusion, now altered into two deep blue pools of disappointment and sadness, searching her face as if trying to procure evidence of a joke in her expression to disperse the pain he felt at her interruption. Slowly she pulled her hand away from his lips, gently stroking his cheek in comfort at the pain she knew he must feel, or in anticipation of the pain he was about to endure, her eyes followed the movement of her hand refusing to meet his gaze,

"Why not?" He asked forcefully. She had now removed herself from his embrace and was sat cross legged facing him, the white sheet she clenched close to her chest to obscure her bare breasts, it wasn't that she was self-conscious but it was hardly appropriate to be sat naked before a man who she had just interrupted mid declaration. Forcing her eyes back up to meet his, he identified that they were now stern, cold and focused, the shield of Black Widow had now fallen into place, no feeling was identified in her expression, as calmly she replied,

"Because we both know I'm not made for that. I can't give you what you deserve, what you want Steve..." Her lips stopped moving mid sentence, as if she had suddenly lost her voice, but after a moment of deep contemplation on her part she stopped, her lips now forming a severe line of defiance, before turning and getting out of bed pulling on her underwear and putting her bra back on. Steve felt his disappointment and hurt turn and curdle into a heated anger that simmered violently in his chest, causing him to aggressively exit the bed and pull on a pair of boxers located nearby. He was angry at her for cutting him off; for refusing his expression of emotions for her; for distancing herself from him; for getting out of bed and evidently deciding to leave. Turning towards her he saw that she had now pulled on her jeans, her back to him, anger burned his insides and tore at his heart, raising his voice he firmly stated,

"Nat stop. Finish what you were going to say." She didn't turn around; keeping her back to him she continued to pull her jeans on,

"Steve..." She uttered firmly, again another warning that to continue would not be beneficial for either of them, but the fire and flare of Steve's anger and hurt was too much for a mere verbal warning to extinguish. Viciously Steve replied, venom and rage evident in his voice,

"Come on Nat; be _honest _with me _for once_." At that she stopped still, after doing up the zip and button on her jeans, she turned finally to face Steve, her expression still indifferent and cold. Her eyes however seemed to glare with fire, but he swore they now possessed a glassy sheen as if she was holding back tears that threatened to fall. His heart was pounding and he felt a tightening in his gut in apprehension of her response, as if preparing for a physical blow to the body, he knows this is going to hurt. Her voice was cold, harsh, stern and unforgiving, as her gaze bores into his,

"I'm not her. I never will be, and don't you dare try and fool yourself into thinking I am. Is that honest enough for you?" At that she pulls on her tank top, and strides quickly out of the room grabbing her jacket, not looking back once. He doesn't see the way her eyes are now swelling with tears, scratching at her eyelids begging for release, so as she slams the door he doesn't see the tears that now silently pour over her cheeks. The reason why she didn't look back. **She doesn't deserve him, and that's the brutal and honest truth.**

His eyes follow her out the room, and he feels his eyes start to sting with the fierce threat of tears, hearing the door slam he exhales heavily before punching the wall with anger, creating a large hole. His body collapses underneath him, as his anger seeps away giving way for the pain and loss, emotionally exhausted, he sits slumped on the floor leaning against the damaged wall. Holding his head in his hands **he prays that this isn't the end for them, not yet, he can't let her go that easily.**


	2. Depths of Need

_"__Love is a fragile, corruptible thing. And yet I have seen it evince a curious strength. It is beyond any comprehension Love is a weakness that once in a great while triumphs over strength. "  
__― __Brent Weeks_

* * *

In the days that followed their explosive dispute Natasha avoided Steve like the plague, frequently she took Fury up on small field missions she would never have even glanced at before, all for the sake of avoiding confronting Steve. Steve immediately identified her behaviour and after three days he became frustrated and annoyed at the childish conduct that Natasha was adopting, and finally made the decision that they needed to discuss what had come to pass. Striding down the corridor towards Natasha's quarters, Steve felt the fluttering of nerves flurrying in the pit of his stomach, causing his hands to tremble slightly in anticipation of the oncoming incident. If he was to be honest he would plainly admit that he was scared, as much as their quarrel had brought up a number of insecurities and fears, they also had forged a number of questions that Steve feared the answer to. He was petrified. Their situation had meant there was no possible way for them to 'split up' for they had never really been labelled officially as together, but Steve feared that perhaps all along he had been the only one who had felt anything. Natasha's words had echoed hauntingly through his head, waking him at night,

_"__I'm not her. I never will be, and don't you dare try and fool yourself into thinking I am."_

Natasha had known of Peggy, know of the nature of their relationship and the feelings they had for each other. Did she honestly think that he wanted her to be Peggy? Admittedly there were many similarities that the two women he adored shared, he had frequently noted the way Natasha was defiant, strong, witty, clever and so independent, attributes Peggy had also exhibited. However Steve could distinguish them as two independent people, not to be categorised as the other and two women who had played a significant part in his life.

Standing outside of her door he inhaled sharply, before knocking firmly and nervously awaiting any response. As he stood he looked down at the floor, his legs twitched slightly and his fingers floundered twirling in and out of each other in anticipation. After what seemed like forever Natasha opened the door, her brilliant red tresses were pulled back from her face into a scruffy high ponytail, wearing a pair of grey sweat pants paired with a simple black tank top, all enhancing the unspeakable beauty of her strong features. Her olive eyes bestowed a gaze so powerful he almost felt as if she was looking right through him, causing Steve to fidget, which immediately irritated Natasha. She stood there waiting, not speaking, not moving and, despite expectations, she hadn't slammed the door in his face. Taking a deep breath Steve finally mustered up the courage to address the heavy unspoken conflict that had immediately settled between them,

"Natasha we need to talk about the other night. We can't continue like this." Holding the edge of the door Natasha stepped aside in response to his statement, allowing him entrance into her room. At this hopeful reaction, an unsteady but hopeful smile curved the edges of Steve's lips slightly as he strode forward into Natasha's room, and stood waiting for her to give him an indication of what to do next. As she firmly closed the door she turned back around to look at him, crossing her arms she sternly stated,

"I haven't got all day." With that she walked over to her bed and slumped down before crossing her legs and facing him expectantly, however her features remained stern and severe, no emotion, no inclination of what she was thinking. Closing his eyes briefly he took another deep breath before opening them and bestowing his gaze back on her, inducing his shoulders to slump slightly as just by merely being in her presence she had defeated him. She had him. All of him. Composing himself he spoke,

"Nat, I know you're not Peggy. I never would want you to be her, she was my past and as much as you label me as a sentimental man there's only so long you can hold on to a quashed dream. Whatever you think of me, please know this..." With that he stepped forward towards the end of the bed where Natasha sat before proceeding to kneel down before her,

"... you've got me, all of me. Whether you like it or not and whether you want me or not. **You have me**." Natasha remained still her features still held the same expression however Steve noted that her stern gaze now held a glassy sheen, a gloss that indicated that somewhere in there she felt something, and that was all Steve needed to continue,

"I'm not apologising for what I wanted to say. You said you're not what I deserve but I don't deserve anything and all I truly want is for you to know how I feel about you, and you don't have to reciprocate or say it back. So if you want me to have what I supposedly deserve let me love you without reason, because that is what I want." She remained still, entranced by the golden haired soldier and the sincere words that spilled so eloquently from his lips, however as she blinked a single tear leapt from the corner of her eye, trickling down her cheek leaving a glistening trail. Steve remained knelt before her and within the uncharacteristic shedding of a tear; his instinct to brush her tears away was held back by the need for her to make the first move, for her to make a decision. This was her choice now, not his. Paralysed in anticipation Steve observed as she allowed her head to tilt forward and a tear fell on to the bed leaving a small dark circular stain, he could feel the tremor of fear and expectation reverberate up his chest and through his limbs, forcing him to speak, his voice now raspy and hushed with suppression and apprehension,

"Nat, please say something... anything." His hands now crept forward and before he knew it they had managed to slip into hers, and she had let him, his thumbs now caressed small circles on the back of her hands as if trying to revive her from her deathly silence. Finally she looked up at him, their eyes met and Steve observed how now they were plainly filled with unwept tears, releasing one of her hands he gently wiped away a tear that had been cascading over the contours of her cheek with his thumb. As he did so she closed her eyes, relishing in the touch of his hand coinciding with the knowledge that she was so blessed to have this man give her everything, to want to be her everything. Finally she managed to compose herself and gently squeezing his hands she spoke, her voice barely sounding like her own, low and soft,

"I can never be the woman I think you deserve... I mean I don't even think a woman that perfect exists..." At that she let out a gentle chuckle, one which Steve revelled in, humour was her way of coping with emotional vulnerability and Steve knew it meant that whatever she was saying, it was honest. His gaze held hers and Natasha knew she had him hanging on her every word,

"But you deserve to get what you want, and if that's all you want from me then I'm one hell of a lucky girl. You know, more than anyone I'm not good with things like this. I... I... In fact I'm pretty much terrified of what the hell this is." A nervous chortle erupted deliciously from her lips, coaxing an endearing smile to etch its way onto Steve's face as he soaked up the way her expression shifted continuously as she battled through the words she wanted to say, the ones he so desperately needed to hear,

"I've always considered love a weakness; it's what I was taught, ingrained in me from a young age. I will flinch, I will hesitate but it's there... and it's... it's..." Her gaze now returned downwards, and Steve reigned in the inclination to tilt her face up to meet him, instead waiting for her to finish,

"... it's all for you." With that she ripped her hands from his and abruptly removed herself from the bed before swiftly making her way to the large window that reached from floor to ceiling, her back facing Steve. His hands remained in front of him suddenly looking starkly scarce without the presence of hers, before he too stood and made his way towards her stopping just behind her. He could see in the reflection of the glass that her features had redeemed their stern expression, the shield of Black Widow had fallen in to place, but he didn't care because all she had said was all he needed. With that thought he carefully wrapped his arms around her slim waist pulling her close to him, at first she didn't respond remaining tense and rigid before he felt her hands gliding over his arms that occupied her waist before stopping above his hands, before he finally felt her body relax and allow him to envelope her fully. Her head tilted back resting on his chest as she indulged in his embrace, and Steve's eye caught the pale, delicate expanse of her elegant neck and could no longer resist allowing his head to dip and his lips to place chaste kisses up the column of her throat making his agonizing ascent towards her ear. As he did so he savoured the look of pure bliss that passed over Natasha's features, her eyes closed and her mouth opened slightly allowing muted whimpers to fall preciously from her lips. Halting his assault once he reached her ear he whispered,

"**I love you**." With that she rotated promptly in his arms to face him before their lips collided in a release of unbridled passion and affection, one that could withstand many threats even ones from within. **All that was needed was said and known, and for both of them that was all they required.**


End file.
